


Measure of the man

by DawningDay



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crying Mycroft Holmes, Gen, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Original Character(s), Poor Mycroft, Protective Mycroft, Teen Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawningDay/pseuds/DawningDay
Summary: 15 year old Mycroft is called to his uncle's office to discuss his future. The secrets revealed and the decisions made change the course of it forever.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Although I enjoy writing for myself, this is the first time I've shared anything with others. Comments much appreciated but please be kind. There are further chapters to this if it is enjoyed.
> 
> Though she doesn't feature in this chapter, in my headcanon, there is a fourth Holmes sibling. Evangeline Holmes (Eva) is a year younger than Mycroft and was born from my desire to have someone who loves and accepts him for exactly who he is. Though intelligent, she is rather un-holmesian in many respects in that she is emotionally intuitive. Her brothers - unable to understand this - have a quiet admiration for this. 
> 
> She doesn't feature heavily in this work but you will meet her later.

Mycroft sat down in the chair opposite his uncle, who leaned back into his own and assessed him over the top of his interlocked fingers. At fifteen, Mycroft had grown several inches over the past year and consequently had lost most of the ‘puppy fat’ which had been the feature of his childhood. As uncle Rudy surveyed his nephew, the eyes that met his were bright, intelligent and enquiring; a boy on the cusp of manhood with all the self- assurance of one who knows he has a bright future ahead.

Rudy sighed slightly. “Do you know why I've asked you here today, Mycroft?”

“No, sir.”

“I feel it's time we discussed your future.” He paused. “I know you have many ambitions.” He smiled slightly, “my job, wasn't it?”

Mycroft grinned. 

“With responsibility comes hardship. It would be remiss of me not to warn you that decisions you will make for the greater good will often mean setting aside your own wishes and even your happiness. Emotions are complicated and messy things, Mycroft. They cannot be allowed to cloud the judgement. You understand?"

“Yes, sir,” replied the boy. 

Mycroft could feel the intensity of his uncle's gaze. As though the eyes on him would see through to his very core. In response, he straightened further in his chair and met his uncle eye-to- eye. Man-to-man.

“Good...” intoned his uncle, with quiet approval. “Yes. I think...” He pushed his chair forwards so that his elbows rested on the desk. “A situation has arisen", he said, quietly. “With your sister.”

“Eurus?” questioned Mycroft. 

“Indeed,” his uncle replied. “There has been an incident. A fire, at the institution at which she resides. Started by her of course.”

Mycroft’s eyes widened. “Fatalities?” he asked. 

“Two,” replied his uncle, with a tone of factual indifference.

Mycroft felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck and fought the urge to shiver.

“This, of course, leaves us with a predicament.”

“Sir?”

“Of how we next proceed,” he replied, leaning back into the chair again. Those penetrating eyes were back on his nephew. “You, I think, can appreciate the complexities here. Eurus may only be a seven-year-old child, but she is highly dangerous. Put her in a similar institution and this will undoubtedly happen again. She is a danger to herself and even more so to others.”

“Then where can she go?” Mycroft asked. 

“There is a place,” replied Rudy, shortly. “A place which would hold her.” A short pause. “Mycroft, what I am about to tell you now is classified. Do you understand? I require your word that you will speak of this to no-one; not your parents, your sister, a trusted friend... no-one. Do I have your word?”

“Yes, sir. Of course. You have my word.”

Rudolph Holmes took a deep breath, “there is a place – a fortress of sorts – on a small island. It is a maximum security institution the likes of which you would never of heard. It is built to contain the “uncontainables"; those without hope of rehabilitation or release. I won't lie to you, Mycroft... it's a bleak place. A living Hell.”

“Are you saying...", Mycroft began, haltingly, “are you saying you think this is where Eurus should go?”

The eyes searching his uncle – earlier so keen and bright – were now full of fear. 

“She has killed 3 people", his uncle reminded him, quietly. 

“We don't know that!” Countered Mycroft desperately. “Victor! He could have just... we don't know that she actually... he may have just...” His voice tailed off.

“Calm yourself, Mycroft”, Rudy admonished quietly. “You know she did.”

Mycroft lowered his head and closed his eyes momentarily as he tried to quell the emotions fighting their way to the surface. He knew how his uncle prized emotional control and he had a terror of being thought weak. He steadied his breathing and, as he focused on it's rhythm, felt his poise return. He raised his head. Uncle Rudy gave him an approving nod.

“Your parents will have a similar response to news of Eurus's necessary incarceration. Though without your tempering and reasoning. They will argue for her rehabilitation, which is – sadly – futile. The emotional pain of having ones child end up in such a place... well, you and I can only imagine.” He fixed Mycroft with a look which was both sharp and calculating, “I wonder if there is a means to spare them this.”

Mycroft thought he could see where the man was heading but so horrific was the notion he couldn't stand to voice it aloud. Uncle Rudy pressed on. 

“We have worked very hard to ensure that news of the fire does not become general knowledge. Five” he held up five fingers “people are aware of the true version of events. Two of them are in this room and the other three will pose no difficulty.”

Mycroft’s eyes upon the older man were wary now. He spoke, cautiously “the fire. Some would say... there is...” he chose his word carefully, “opportunity.”

“The fire is opportunity, Mycroft. Do we take it?”

“You want the world – and my parents- to think three people died.” It wasn't a question. “You want them to believe my sister dead.”  
He took his uncle's silence as affirmation.  
“Why do you tell me this?” And he suddenly sounded like the fifteen year old boy he was. “Why couldn't you have let me think it too, If that's how you decide to proceed?”

The look his uncle gave him was appraising. “Because the decision needs to be yours.”

“Why?” Mycroft felt sickened. 

“Because I fear the... management, of your sister will always fall to you. For you will never forget what she is. The danger that she is. It is better to learn to take the cold, hard truth now; you will not always be fifteen. I will not be around forever, Mycroft. I am not a young man. I am not a healthy man. And you are the one who will have a lifetime of having to look them in the eye. It must be your decision. In my view... if we can spare them pain...”

“How is telling them their child is dead going to spare them pain!”

Rudy shrugged, “there may be something to be said for – if you will excuse the Americanism – ripping the band aid off quickly. They grieve. They heal.”

Sickened, Mycroft attempted to process this. Yet when he spoke, his tone did not reflect the emotional turmoil and he surprised himself with the calm gravity of his words. The ring of authority in them clear. “Let me see her.”

The very idea of a 15 year old, of no position, being granted access to Sherrinford was laughable. With Rudolph Holmes at the helm however, it wasn't questioned. When he spoke, others listened. And obeyed. Within the hour, Mycroft was boarding the helicopter to take him to Hell.

“Not much longer now,” his uncle remarked, peering through the swirls of cloud below them. “When we arrive, you are not to speak unless spoken to and you are to do exactly what I say, understood?”

Mycroft resented being spoken to like a child, particularly after all his uncle was asking of him, but he kept his voice polite as he replied “yes, sir.”

As the helicopter began it's bumpy decent, Mycroft kept his eyes fixed on the looming shape on the horizon, which he knew to be Sherrinford. As they approached further, it seemed to rise up out of the water, a dark, shapeless mouth ready to swallow him in. As they hovered above, ready for the final landing, Mycroft watched the ground rushing up to meet them. They had arrived.  
Mycroft was careful to conceal his fear as his uncle led him through the dim corridors of the fortress. Uncle Rudy conversed with those necessary but otherwise did not speak. As they came to the next door however, he stopped and turned to his nephew. 

“Through here, is your sister. Yet not your sister. Never for one moment underestimate her, Mycroft. Never let her into your head.”  
He punched in a code and pushed the door open. “Stay back from the glass”, he cautioned and stepped back to allow Mycroft to proceed. 

“Are you not coming with me?” Mycroft asked in surprise; ashamed of the way his fear permeated his voice, making it sound much unlike his own. 

“No,” replied his uncle, simply. “If this is the path you choose then the sooner you learn to tread it alone the better for you.”  
Mycroft took a breath and stepped through the door, which clicked shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft meets with Eurus for the first time since 'Redbeard' and wrestles with the weight of the decisions which follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2. One more chapter (containing the epilogue) to follow. At the very end of this chapter, you meet 'Eva'. She was created (as explained in the previous chapter) to allow my version of Mycroft to have at least one person offer him warmth and friendship in his early life. Enjoy.

The first thing which struck him was the brightness of the room, which in contrast to the dim halls was quite dazzling. In front of him was a white expanse, which he soon saw was separated from where he stood by a fronting of reinforced glass. Mycroft took a step forward. A tiny child sat in the far corner. Her knees drawn up to her chest. It was clear that she had seen him before him her. Her eyes, unblinking were fixed on him. Mycroft moved cautiously forward, stopping when he reached the marker on the ground telling him to proceed no further. The child stood. She held herself stiffly as she walked, slowly, towards him. Still she did not blink. Mycroft felt a trickle of sweat run down the back of his neck.

“Hello, Mycroft", her voice sounded sing- song, as any small child, but the echo of the room gave it an eerie quality. “I wondered when you'd come. I've seen no-one for such a long time. Except uncle. And he is so dull.” Her eyes lightened with interest, “did you bring Sherlock? That would be fun.”

“No,” replied Mycroft, but his voice betrayed him and only a small, cracked something came out. He cleared his throat “No,” he said again, stronger this time.

“Oh" came the child's reply. “Never mind.” She sat cross- legged on the floor and watched him expectantly, as though waiting for him to do something interesting. “We can have fun too.”

Mycroft searched his mind for something to say to the sister he had not seen for two years and stumbled upon “how are you?” What a ridiculous thing to say! He winced as the words hit the air, but the child gazed impenetrably back at him as though he had said nothing strange.

“oh fine,” she replied in that strange voice.

He tried again. “Do you know why you're here?” He asked.

“I think because of the fire”, She replied, conversationally. As though she had done no more than remark ‘it's chilly out today’.

“Why did you do it?”

She blinked, once, as though this was a mildly interesting question, before saying “I was bored.”

“You were _bored?_ ”

“oh yes”, she replied, casually. “It was terribly dull there. Nothing interesting ever happened and so I started the fire.” Her eyes gleamed suddenly at the recollection, “people become so much more interesting when they start screaming. Have you ever noticed?” She looked eagerly at him. Mycroft felt suddenly sick. He shot a fleeting glance over his shoulder at the door behind him. The gesture was not lost on Eurus. The eyes that had been so bright and animated moments before, when discussing the people trapped in the fire, seemed to darken. “And now you want to leave", she stated, hollowly.

“No”, lied Mycroft.

“People always want to leave", said Eurus, flatly. She was looking at him as though he had disappointed her greatly. She then gave the tiniest of sighs and her eyes became curiously blank, as though invisible shutters had closed behind them.

“You know, Mycroft, I think you've become rather dull too.”

Upon his exit from the room, Mycroft leaned weakly against the closed door - which now hid his sister – and tried to catch his breath. He didn't even care that his uncle was watching him. His uncle's face was grim. “Come on, my boy” he said, with surprising tenderness. Mycroft didn't speak for the entirety of the journey home. His brain whirred with what had just happened and what should next be done. Back in his uncle's office, he lowered himself into the chair he had vacated only hours previous. This time however he did not wait for his uncle to speak.

“How long do I have?

“Pardon me?” Rudy replied, confused.

“How long can you give me... before I tell them?”

Mycroft’s expression was grim but with all the determination of one who had steeled himself to a course of action and was determined to see it through.

“b-before _you_ tell them?” Rudolph Holmes could not hide his surprise. Mycroft took a dark satisfaction from this.

“It should be me", he replied shortly.

Something flickered in his uncle's expression. For a moment Mycroft thought he would refuse, but instead he replied, “as you wish. I can give you three days.”

_Three days._ Mycroft felt as though he was sleepwalking his way through them in a kind of numb horror. He longed for someone to wake him, to reassure that it was all a bad dream. But there was no such comfort for him now. He was alone. Gifted though he was, he fought to process just how much had changed from that moment he had walked into his uncle's office. He had entered as a brilliant, highly gifted and ambitious boy - secure in the promise of a golden future - and had seen that shattered in front of him. He saw his future plainly now. He would rise to great heights and position, yes, but the joy had all been stripped away. Nothing he would now do was for self fulfilment, but rather to enable him to obtain such a position as to command authority over his sister's situation. He needed people to bow to him as they did to his uncle, but there was no longer any satisfaction left in the notion. Three days left as a teenager, before he looked his parents in the eye and told them their child was dead. Three days. As he lay in bed in the second night, the full crushing weight of responsibility threatened to overwhelm him. _Fight it_ , he told himself. To let his guard down, even for a moment, was dangerous. If he was to keep up this lifetime facade then there could be no chinks in the armour. He had to be impenetrable. Yet the quiet stillness of the night enfolded him. The darkness of the night offering the promise of secrets kept.

Eva woke. The room was dark, her bed warm and comfortable. She was just about to close her eyes and drift back off when she heard it. Suddenly awake, fourteen year old Evangeline stilled her breathing and listened intently. Someone was weeping. Softly, but the sound still audible in the otherwise silent rooms. _Sherlock_ , she thought. Her eight year old brother had struggled enormously with nightmares ever since... what had happened. Quietly, Eva climbed from her bed and crept out into the hall towards Sherlock’s room. The sound had stopped. Inching open his door, Eva made her way towards her younger brother's bed and found him sprawled – half in and out of the bed clothes – with his mouth partially open; undeniably asleep. Eva's brow furrowed slightly as she stared down at her brother's sleeping form and a thought suddenly occurred to her. Backing out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind her, Eva backtracked along the landing to her brother Mycroft’s room. She paused momentarily and then turned the handle. The room was silent. Too silent, thought Eva. The absence of Mycroft’s usual snores meant that he was certainly awake and him not immediately demanding to know why she was creeping into his room in the middle of the night was proof enough that he did not wish her to know it.

“My-?” she asked, tentatively. Eva alone could get away with the shortening of his name. “Mycroft? You awake?” No reply. Cautiously, she approached the bed. He was laying on his left side; so still he appeared to barely breathe. Eva hesitated before gently lifting the corner of the duvet. She climbed in beside him, as she did so often with Sherlock. “My-?” This time there was a hitched breath. Slowly she manouvered herself so that her head lay on the pillow beside him. Facing his back, she wrapped one arm around him and found his hand. “My-?” His head bowed in response and he seemed to curl up into himself. Still he did not answer, yet she felt him grip her hand. Knowing her brother as she did, Eva didn't try to question him or to offer words of reassurance; instead simply being present until the ragged, shuddering breaths – which she did him the kindness to pretend she didn't hear - gave way to sleep.

To be continued...


End file.
